Kill You With a Kiss
by Winged Quill
Summary: What if Lupin HAD told Dumbledore about Sirius being an Animagi? What if they had seen him at the Quidditch match? And what if Dumbledore wasn't there to cast a Patronus? Enter a world of pain and terror, and what comes after may be even worse.
1. The Kiss of Death

**A/N: Why hello! Welcome to the first chapter of Kill You With a Kiss. Don't have that much to say, and I'm sure you don't want to listen to me ramble, so first off, thanks to UnknownUnseenUnheard for helping me with some ideas (go check out his stories, they're amazing) and Tashi and the Black Bumble Bee for beta-ing. (I'm posting this un-beta-d and will post the beta-d version when she's done. Also, I'm beta-ing one of her stories, so go check that out!)**

**DISCLAIMER: Nope, don't own.**

* * *

Dumbledore was sitting under an umbrella, casually eating a lemon drop and watching the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff Quidditch match. Harry had disappeared up into some clouds a while ago, he noticed. It was almost impossible to see anyone in this weather, let alone the small third-year.

A flash of lightning briefly illuminated the stands, and there, in the topmost stand, was a big, black, Grim-like dog. Dumbledore's eyes widened as he realized that Sirius Black was amongst the students, while Harry was utterly helpless up in the sky. He tapped Remus Lupin on the shoulder, then pointed at the dog, whose eyes were fixed on the cloud that Harry had vanished into.

"Is that Black?" asked Dumbledore quietly, not wanting any one else to hear him.

Remus gasped, and then nodded in confirmation. He had told Dumbledore about the Sirius, James, and Peter being Animagi. Though Dumbledore had been disappointed in Remus, he was now relieved he had told him. With Sirius right there, what would have happened to Harry if he hadn't?

Dumbledore led Remus up the stands, he footing quick and sure despite the pounding rain. It drove in his eyes, and Dumbledore quickly cast an Impervious charm. As they grew closer, they noticed the dog becoming more and more skittish. Upon realizing that they were after him, the dog bolted.

"Get him!" yelled Remus and the chase was on. Students gaped openmouthed as their teacher and headmaster ran past. Some shrieked out that the Grim was coming and hid under the benches.

And all the while the rain poured down.

Sirius led the men out of the Quidditch pitch where he transformed, holding a wand aloft. A duel commenced, the two Hogwarts professors cornering the Azkaban fugitive against a large boulder. Dumbledore felt something akin to ice settle over his heart, but he paid no mind to it, chalking it up to anger or the rain.

"Sirius Black," he said quietly. "First you betray Lily and James, then you have the audacity to try and murder their son?"

"I'm innocent! I swear I'm innocent!"

Before Dumbledore could question him further, a bolt of ice drove into his heart, and a memory of Ariana, cold and lifeless on the kitchen floor, flooded his mind.

_Dementors_.

He heard screams from the Quidditch pitch. Quickly binding Sirius and levitating him, he began to sprint back to the Quidditch pitch, with Remus beside him, his only thought to protect the students.

Little did he know he was too late.

* * *

The cold clammy hands were closing around Harry, plucking him off his broom like he weighed nothing. His mother's screams were echoing in his ears, and he could hear his own resonating right alongside hers. The dementor lifted him higher into the air, cradling him as though he were an infant.

"Let me go! Please!" he begged, though he knew his pleas were worthless.

Other dementors gathered around Harry, he had never been so cold, so terrified. They seemed to be arguing amongst themselves in their own screeching language, all of their hands reaching out at once to try and snatch him away. Harry didn't know if it was the way they were talking, or the fact that they were surrounding him, but he had the feeling that something awful was about to happen to him.

He had the feeling that he would not live to see this storm clear.

He cried out desperately, hoping someone, anyone, would hear him, save him. No one came. No one was here to chase away the dark, the sound of his mother's screams.

The dementors seemed to have reached and agreement. The dementor holding him gave him, almost grudgingly, to another dementor, who forced him to look into it's face. A feeling of terror even stronger than before swept over him and he cried out, slamming his fists into the cloth of the dementor's robes.

The dementor lowered its hood, revealing a gaping hole surrounded by decaying flesh. Harry whimpered. He couldn't help it, though he knew he must sound like a baby. He was more scared then he had ever been in his life.

The dementor lowered its head, fingers curling around Harry's neck and jaw, forcing his mouth open. Harry let out a small scream when its lips crushed against his, knowing that the dementor wasn't just looking for a little love. No, this was surely some means of destroying him, a fact he became even more sure of when a burst of agony shot through him, rattling his bones. The sensation of something draining from him, vanishing into darkness, overcame him.

Darkness began to tinge his vision. It would be so good just to let go.

_No! Fight it! Fight it, Harry! Don't give in!_

But he was so tired...it would be so good to sleep, just for a little while. The direness of the situation did not escape him, yet he couldn't stop his eyes from sliding shut and his breath from evening out.

He was flying through a tunnel. Flying wasn't really accurate, it felt more like he was being pulled along. Was he dead? Was this the tunnel everyone always said there was a light at the end of? No! He couldn't die, he couldn't!

He tried to fight it, but the tugging sensation only grew. It was then that Harry saw that there was no light, no ghostly versions of his Mum and Dad, no fluffy clouds.

Only death, and despair, and darkness.

And as he was pulled into the chasm, Harry screamed one final time.

* * *

Eeisla allowed herself to feel satisfied as she studied her handiwork. It had been awhile since she had feasted upon a human soul, five years at least. Which was why she had arranged this little excursion into the school grounds today. A smile graced her lips as she pulled her hood back up and held the boy away from herself at arms length, studying him.

He looked peaceful, though he was anything but. She could sense him, and all the other souls she had collected, inside her. He was panicking, thrashing about, desperately trying to escape. Not just her either, Eeisla could feel a cloying, parasitic presence around the child's soul, trying to destroy him. She could sense that she strengthened it, rather than weaken it as she would most souls.

This would prove quite...interesting.

Letting go of her prey, Eeisla drifted off.

She did not even stay to see the boy fall.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry about the shortness, but that seemed like a good place to cut it off. Anyway, what'd you think? Leave a review and let me know.**

_**-Winged Quill**_


	2. An Ocean of Grief

_"Arresto Momentum!"_ hollered Dumbledore, pointing the Elder Wand at the sky. Harry began to fall slower, but he still hit the ground with a sickening thud. He lay limp and unmoving on the pitch, looking like a discarded rag doll. Dumbledore levitated him onto a stretcher.

"Remus, can you take Harry up to the hospital wing?" he asked, turning to the werewolf. "I'm going to lock Black up, then I'll join you."

"Yes," Remus said tersely, waving his wand and lifting Harry through the air in front of him. He was worried about the boy, thinking that perhaps he should be taught the Patronus Charm. Resolving to do so, he walked off the pitch, well aware of the screams and whispering from behind. He didn't look back. Harry needed immediate medical attention. Though Remus wanted to console his friends with the fact that yes, Harry was alive, he needed to get the boy to the Hospital Wing.

As Remus entered the school, his werewolf-heightened ears could tell that Harry's breathing was...off. Too calm for someone who had just passed out and fallen fifty feet. Too even. He didn't move an inch, looking almost like a corpse, only the slight rise and fall of his chest indicating he was still alive.

"Poppy!" he yelled as he reached the Hospital Wing. He didn't know exactly what was wrong with Harry but whatever it was, he didn't like it.

"Remus, what is it this time?" she sighed in exasperation.

"He was attacked by dementors and fainted. Fell fifty feet. And there's something...wrong with him."

"Of course there's something wrong with him if he fell that distance, he should have been killed!"

"Dumbledore used_ Arresto Momentum."_

"Well, he may have just saved Mr. Potter's life."

"Thank Merlin for that."

"Yes. Well he seems fine, I think that all we can do is let him sleep it off."

"Last time he was awake by now," Remus said, concerned.

"There was only one dementor last time, Remus. Still, if he's not up in an hour, I'll _Enervate_ him."

"Fair enough."

The hour passed, Remus growing more and more tense. Eventually Madame Pomphrey sent him out, saying quite clearly that 'Harry didn't need a worried werewolf hovering over his bedside when he woke up.'

* * *

Poppy Pomphrey was getting nervous, though she didn't show it. Harry should have woken up long ago, within a few minutes of fainting. She told Remus an hour, so he wouldn't be even more worried then he was. But, as the hour grew closer, Harry still showed no sign of waking. Not even a twitch of the fingers or a flicker of an eyelid.

Well, it was time.

_"Enervate."_

The beam of light hit Harry directly over the heart, yet there was no change. He continued to lie absolutely motionless, not even breathing differently.

_"Enervate. Enervate! ENERVATE!"_

No change. Poppy swallowed, dropping her arm to her side. There was only one thing she could think of that could cause this.

_"Revelare Anima."_

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

_No, no, oh Merlin...no. He's too young! He's thirteen! Please..._

_"REVELARE ANIMA!"_

Harry just continued to sleep. Poppy felt sick. He would look like this forever, never moving, never waking. He had been Kissed by a Dementor. It was, as everyone said, a fate worse then death. She thought that she heard a faint scream of pain and terror as she collapsed into a chair. The Unspeakables had done research, and confirmed to Minister Fudge that those who had been Kissed suffered for the rest of eternity, constantly reliving their worst memories. And the dementors...they could inflict whatever torture they wanted on the captured souls. Fudge had informed the public, as a tactic to scare them with knowledge of the true horror of the Dementor's Kiss.

She knew the scream she heard was only in her imagination. Yet she also knew that at this moment the boy, the innocent, _thirteen-year-old child, _was undergoing more torture than she could imagine. Poppy had become a school Mediwitch so she didn't have to deal with sobbing family being informed that their loved ones would never wake up. After all, who would expect this sort of thing to happen in a school? Who would expect a student to be killed, or Kissed?

Not her. But it looked like she would be the one to bear the bad news. To look Ron, Hermione, Lupin, Dumbledore in the eye and tell them that Harry wasn't coming back. She was strong. But this was too much.

She shakily got to her feet, still not looking at Harry, and grabbed a handful of Floo Powder.

"Hogwarts Headmaster's Office," she intoned, throwing the glittering green powder into the fireplace, and sticking her head in.

"Dumbledore, come down here!" she yelled, upon seeing him listening intently to Sirius Black.

"My office is on lockdown. Don't try anything if you know what's good for you," he said, shooting Sirius a stern look and stepping into the fire.

"Poppy? What is it?"

"Dumbledore...it's Harry."

"What? What happened? Is he going to be alright?"

"No. No, he's not going to be alright." She sank into the chair again, putting her head in her hands. "He's never going to be alright!"

"What...no...please don't tell me-"

"H-he wouldn't wake up when I used _Enervate_. Then I tried _Revelare Anima_, and-" she broke off. "Why? Why Harry, of all people?"

Dumbledore looked down, horror and pain etched into his face.

"This is all my fault. If I hadn't gone after Sirius than..."

"Albus, stop. You couldn't have known. What...What's done is done and...there's nothing we can do." she whispered. Nothing they could do. Nothing. The Dementor was long gone, Harry's soul with it. Again, Poppy thought she heard an echoing scream, and when she closed her eyes, an image of Harry, bloody and broken, appeared in her mind. She shuddered violently and opened her eyes, which didn't really help seeing as she was facing Harry.

"I will inform his friends," Dumbledore said quietly, standing. "And Remus. Sirius as well. If his story checks out...Poppy, he's innocent. _Innocent._ We brought dementors onto the grounds for _nothing."_

Poppy just blinked, before closing her eyes again, and resting her head in her hands.

"Merlin, this is a nightmare. I came to Hogwarts to _avoid_ this not to-" She broke off. "Anyway, you...inform his friends."

Dumbledore nodded, walking out of the infirmiry. Poppy stood up and walked over to the window, wanting to avoid looking at Harry. But she still couldn't stop hearing the slow, even breathing. The breathing that would never change pace, that would sound exactly the same for years to come.

* * *

Hermione was worried. Harry should be up and awake by now, they should be allowed to go in and see him. She, Ron, and all of Gryffindor (minus Oliver Wood, who was still in the showers 'trying to drown himself') had been gathered in the Common Room, awaiting news of their friend. Eventually Oliver joined them and together they gazed into the fire.

They waited for an hour, maybe more. Hermione was growing more and more anxious by the minute. If they didn't get any news soon she was going to march up to the Hospital Wing and break the doors down, Pomphrey be damned!

The portrait hole swung open and Dumbledore entered. One look at his face and Hermione's heart sank. It was _The Look._ The look that her mother had when she told Hermione her cat had died, when her father told her that Gramma had passed on. The look that always meant that the worst had happened.

"I'm afraid I have some grave news," Dumbledore said, looking every one of his hundred-and-fifty years and than some. "Earlier today, during the Quidditch match, I'm afraid that Harry Potter was-"

_Please don't say killed, please don't say killed..._

"-Kissed."

_Merlin it's even worse._

Hermione felt her heart stop, her eyes widen. The world stopped spinning and she continued on, ripped from the ground, suspended in mid-air, lost and hopeless.

Most of Gryffindor knew what Dumbledore meant, and they gasped, screamed, cried. Some didn't and those who knew told them. But the only one who Hermione saw was Ron. Her other best friend, who was the only one who could truly understand what she was going through right now.

He looked utterly horrified.

"NO!" he screamed. "No, it's not true! You're lying!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley."

"NO! I want to see him...let me see him!"

"Ron," Hermione whispered, touching his shoulder.

"Hermione," he said frantically, turning to face her, "you know it can't be true! It's Harry! He...of all people...he doesn't-doesn't deserve..."

"I know," she whispered, hugging him close to her. "I know."

And that's when the tears started to flow down both of the teen's faces. They embraced each other, shaking with sobs. Any other time it would be a huge gossip magnet, but now...

Everyone was hugging everyone, comforting strangers, crying on the shoulders of people they didn't know. She vaguely heard McGonagall come in but she didn't even look up, so lost was she in her grief. She heard McGonagall yell something, heard the two adults leave, but all she could think of was the fact that Harry was _gone._

_Gone._

Such a simple word that could cause so much heartbreak. A word that could mean a million things, a word that now only spoke of tragedy and loss.

Harry had suffered a fate worse than death. She had read the results of the investigation into Kissed souls. At the time, she had thought it was horrific, but nothing that concerned her, seeing as she never planned on breaking the law.

But now, her closest friend had been sentenced to an eternity of suffering. And he had done nothing wrong. He had only wanted to play a Quidditch game for Merlin's sake! Hermione wanted to throw up. She felt sick, sick of the society that she was part of, sick of the people that had allowed such a horrible tragedy to happen.

She wanted to scream. To scream and run and cry and throw things. Break things. Break things as she had been broken. As Harry had been broken. As Ron, Oliver, Katie, Fred and George, Ginny...as all of Gryffindor and soon all of Hogwarts...had been broken.

For their innocence had been snatched away by the faceless, cold and uncaring dementors. They had been shown that the world was not perfect, not all wonderful. The lace curtains hung across the windows to the world and kept children from seeing evil had been burnt to an ash, and Hermione now saw how insubstantial they were.

Someone once said 'that which doesn't kill you, only makes you stronger.'

Hermione dearly wanted to smack that someone in the face.

* * *

_Revelare Anima-Reveal the soul_


	3. Another Soul Joins the Party of Horror

**A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates, finals. Summer is here though, so more updates should be coming. Anyway, enjoy this chapter (actually don't, it's rather horrible. What happens to the characters, I mean.)**

* * *

It was freezing, and pitch black. Harry hugged himself, rubbing his arms in an attempt to drive the cold away. Where was he? Why was it so dark, so cold? Why did it feel as though something was wrapped around him, draining his energy, destroying him? He was confused, he was absolutely terrified.

And that's when the pain began.

An agony that he had never known before, tearing through his body and ripping him to shreds. Screams tore from his lips and were soon lost in the blackness, muffled by the empty air around him. The constricting prescence increased, wrapping around him an squeezing, suffocating him. His cries were cut off as he choked, clawing at his chest to try to get the thing off him.

But it was suppressing him, devouring him, taking over him. He let out another shriek, this time in terror, as the thing let go and began to attack his head. And that's when the room (was it a room?) was flooded with light. And he truly wished it was still dark.

Because the light allowed him to see the plethora of torture devices lined up along the wall, ready and waiting to be used. On him. It also allowed him to see the creature attached to his chest, vile and poisoness green, scarlet eyed and fanged, with a snakelike body. And he could see that it was growing stronger as he flickered and faded, growing weaker and weaker, more and more transparent, like a dying candle.

What had happened to him? What was this thing? Why wasn't someone trying to save him, why was no one coming?

Dark, cold.

So much pain.

A dying candle.

Harry's thoughts were becoming fragmented, hysterical, as his brain began to shut down, unable to comprehend what was happening to him. A tendril reached down to lift up a pair of pliers, clacking them ominously. Harry let out a small whimper of fear as he backed up. The creature jerked and he tumbled to the ground, now scuttling crab-like backwards.

And then he hit a wall. A wall of darkness and frigid, frigid ice. Another tendril came down, grabbing his face and forcing him to stay still as the pliers came closer. His mouth was forced open, and the pliers clamped around one of his front teeth. He let out a scream of agony as they pulled, trying to force the creature to let go, the tendrils to release him, the pliers to back away, anything.

One tooth, two teeth, three teeth, four...

It was like some sort of morbid song that kids would sing as they played jump rope. How many teeth would he lose before they messed up, before their feet became tangled in the rope, and they passed it off, laughing, to the next child in line. He knew that what he was thinking wasn't normal. Was he going crazy? Already?

_Of course you are, little soul,_ a voice rang out around the room. The pliers stopped, and pulled back. Harry lay shaking in pain, trying not to think that there was surely more to come. _You are inside me, Eeisla, a creature of madness and despair, it's natural you would lose your mind quickly in here._

"Little...soul?" Harry croaked out.

_So you can still talk. Ah well, I haven't gotten enough chance to torture you, little soul. The fun is just beginning._

The shrieks of agony rang out through the darkness. And Eeisla laughed.

* * *

Hermione's brain was in denial as to what she was seeing. Her best friend, her secret crush, lying motionless on a clean white hospital bed. He looked as if he were merely in peaceful slumber, when in reality, somewhere, he was screaming in agony as he was tortured.

She tried not to think about it. Yet it seemed that the more and more she tried not to, the more she couldn't stop. And she just wanted to scream, to sob, to hit something with all her strength. But she couldn't bring herself to move from her spot by Harry's bed, as if staying there would wake him up. Wishful thinking, she knew that sitting around would only make it worse in the long run.

She couldn't take this. Not now. Not ever, really. She just had to get away from it all. She stood up, taking one last look at her best friend's corpse.

"I'm sorry. I can't stay," she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. And that's when she turned tail and fled.

She ran all the way to the front gates before realizing she had no idea where she was going. And then she decided that it didn't really matter. As long as she could get as far away from Harry as possible. Choked sobs forced their way out of his throat as she sprinted towards the Forbidden Forest.

"Let me help him!" she screamed as she entered the woods, not quite sure who she was talking to. "Please!"

She continued to stumble through the forest, half-blinded by tears. After several minutes of wandering, she came upon a clearing. She sank to her knees and closed her eyes, placing her head in her hands, letting the tears flow through her fingers.

This was heartbreak. Real, true, burning and agonizing heartbreak.

It was hot and real, and yet absolutely freezing. She could have sworn that she could see her breath. Wait a second...

She _could_ see her breath. And was that ice creeping along the trees, withering them and killing them? And that's when she heard the voice. Dumbledore's voice. _"I'm afraid that Harry Potter was Kissed."_

Her worst memory...so that meant...

Dementor!

She let out a choked scream as the tall, cloaked figure glided into the clearing. No, no, this couldn't be happening! Not after Harry, not her too!

"Please leave me alone!" she screamed frantically, throwing out her arms to protect herself. "You monsters already took Harry, let me be!"

A rattling breath filled the clearing and Hermione whimpered, backing away from the horrible thing.

"Someone...anyone...HELP ME!"

What sounded almost like a laugh came from the creatures mouth as it stalked closer and closer to her. The meaning was clear,_ no one's coming girly._

A cold skeletal hand wrapped around her neck, dragging her face upwards. The dementor then extended her fingers upwards, toward her jaw, forcing it open. She kept her mouth as tightly shut as possible, yet the barest crack was, she knew, enough to administer the Kiss. And the dementor was _strong._

With the hand not clasped around her neck, the dementor yanked it's hood off, revealing a gaping hole. And then the Dementor's lipless mouth was on hers and she was struggling, trying to throw the soul-sucking monster off her. But she could feel her strength fading, could see a dark tunnel all around her. And then she felt her soul completely leaving her body, and she could hear screams, desperate, frantic screams, that were most definitely not her own.

And then she could see a pair of emerald eyes full of agony and hopelessness. She landed in a dim, chilly room and stood up, running over to the raven-haired boy lying on the ground.

"Harry!" she screamed, kneeling beside his prone figure.

"Her...mio..ne?" he asked, staring at her in shock. "What are you...doing...here?"

"What is that thing?" asked Hermione, avoiding Harry's question. She really didn't want to admit that she had been stupid enough to run off into the forest with dementors around. And she honestly did want to know why a giant python was latched onto her friend, leaching off his energy.

"I don-" But before he could finish a knife descended, stabbing him in the arm and elicting a gasp of pain.

"Harry!" she screamed, starting forward. Tendrils came out of nowhere, wrapping around her and pinning her to the wall.

"NO, LET ME GO!" she screamed, struggling against the bindings. "LET ME GO!"

_Shh, little girl. I'm not going to hurt you. No, I'm just going to make you watch as I torture your friend. Well, at least for now. I might get to you later._

The voice seemingly came out of nowhere, but she knew it was from the dementor that she was imprisoned in.

"PLEASE!" she begged, but the tendrils wrapped around Harry, forcing him to his feet. A branding iron descended to his left arm, and began to burn a Dark Mark into his flesh. He threw back his head and screamed, Hermione joining in as tears streamed down her face and she struggled to escape. But it was hopeless, she knew it, Harry knew it, the dementor knew it.

_Do you know what the Mark is, boy?_ asked the dementor._ It's the Mark of the man who killed your parents. You are a traitor, a traitor to your friends, a traitor to your world._

"Don't listen to it, Harry!" screamed Hermione in anguish. "This isn't your fault, you didn't ask for this!"

_Shut up, girl,_ snarled the dementor, wrapping a gag around her mouth.

Hermione was forced to stand there, hopeless and unable to save her friend, as the tendrils branded Dark Mark after Dark Mark into his skin.

_This is getting old,_ muttered the dementor, letting Harry collapse to the floor, shaking and sobbing. The tendrils then released Hermione, allowing her to run over to Harry.

"Harry?" she whispered, reaching forward to clutch his arm. He let out a hiss of pain and flinched away. "Harry..."

"No," he murmered. "No, I'm a traitor, I'm a traitor, let go of me, I'm a traitor."

"You're not. You're not a traitor. Harry, you didn't chose this."

He looked at her weakly, Dark Marks covering his face and neck. She let out a weak sob and threw her arms around him.

_Oh no, little girly, you don't get to comfort him,_ whispered the dementor. And then she wrapped tendrils about Hermione, and she felt her control slipping away from her. A knife was placed in her hand and she looked up at the twitching, sobbing boy on the ground with a maniacal grin on her face.

She stepped forward and grabbed his hand.

"Hermione?" he asked, looking at her with horror.

"Let's see," she said with an insane giggle, grabbing his hand. "Which finger should I cut off first?"

"Hermione, please!"

"Mmm...none," she decided, dropping his hand and turning away. He sighed in relief, before she turned back with that same cruel grin. "I think I'll start with your thumb instead."

And she was laughing, and he was screaming in agony, and the darkness was growing more dark, and the coldness was growing more cold. He could hear a women screaming, and he knew it was his mother, and his own screams were echoing alongside hers as Hermione cut off finger after finger, before just slicing off his right hand and moving on to his eyes.

It was a perfectly composed symphony of anguish and fear. And Harry could feel the python destroying his soul, just as Hermione was destroying his heart.


	4. Out of the Frying Pan?

**A/N:** **So, I don't have much to say, except from here on out, the plot is picking up speed. I hope you like the chapter. And if any of you like Soul Eater, check out my oneshot 'Clouded Golden Eyes.' Blatant self-advertising aside, I don't own Harry Potter (which should be fairly obvious.) Enjoy!**

* * *

Hermione stood up shakily. She felt dizzy and disoriented, and unsure as to exactly what had happened. She remembered struggling, trying to get to Harry and help him, the blackness creeping up on her, and then...nothing. She glanced around the small room and her eyes quickly fell on the small figure huddled up against the wall on the opposite end of the cell, watching her fearfully.

"Harry!" she gasped, running over to him, horrified. Tears sprang into her eyes as she saw the state he was in, missing his right hand, his left eye punctured, his body covered with cuts and bruises. He flinched away from her violently, bringing up his arms to protect his face.

_"See what you've done to your friend, little girl?" _asked the dementor.

"What I've...no...I can't have done this! You're lying!"

The dementor just laughed. A cruel, cold, sadistic laugh that echoed around the room. Harry continued to shake in fear, screaming in terror when she reached forward to comfort him. She felt her heart breaking, shattering into a million pieces, as she realized that what the dementor had said was true. _She_ had done this. _She_ had turned her best friend into a broken mess, _she_ had cut off his hand and driven a knife through his eye, _she_ had covered him with cuts and bruises.

And that's when the memories came flooding back, the dementor not allowing her the ease of not knowing. She was forced to remember every drop of blood, every shriek of agony, every plea to stop. She was forced to remember her insane laughs, Harry desperately trying to reason with her, bring her back from the depths of insanity, before the words turned to screams and the blood started flowing.

She hated herself. If she had just been a bit stronger, if she had just resisted the madness, her friend wouldn't be sobbing on the floor, terrified of her. Yes, the dementor may have tortured him anyway, but she would have at least been able to comfort him.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," she murmured, sitting in front of him, tears still running down her face.

Then the blackness returned. And this time, she knew what it meant.

* * *

Ron was getting worried. He and Hermione had been in the hospital wing, watching over Harry, when she had run out in tears. He had let her go, thinking that she needed some time alone. But that had been five hours ago. Now, teachers were scouring the grounds, using tracking charms to hunt her down. They had discovered that she was somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, and thus, he was not allowed to assist in the search.

He currently sat in the Hospital Wing, refusing to leave his friend's side, for what reason, even he didn't know. Several people had been in and out to try to persuade him to leave, but he refused. Many of those people ended up joining his vigil for an hour or two.

It was getting really late, and Madame Pomfrey had just shown up to kick him out, when a light appeared down the hallway. As it got closer, he could hear voices arguing, screaming, even some that sounded like the person were weeping. The door swung open and the search party poured into the room, Hagrid, who was in the middle, carrying a limp form with bushy brown hair...

Ron wasn't aware that he was getting up from his chair until he was on his feet. His mouth dropped open in horror and he ran forward on autopilot, unable to control himself. _Not Hermione, please Merlin no, not Hermione too._

Madame Pomfrey shakily pointed a finger at a bed next to Harry's. Hagrid, taking the hint, placed Hermione tenderly on the bed.

"What happened?" asked Ron, though he already knew the answer.

"I'm sorry," said Professor McGonagall, tears gathering in her eyes as she stared at the two prone figures lying side by side, "but Hermione has suffered the same fate as Harry." The stern teacher just couldn't bring herself to say 'Kissed.'

"No," whispered Ron, backing up and slumping back into his chair. "This can't be happening, it just...can't. Why? Why them?"

And then the tears, which had before been held back by the crushing numbness that had overtook him, began to flow down his cheeks. He let out a choked sob and put his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking.

"Contact Hermione's parents," said Madame Pomfrey. "Harry's relatives...and Ron's parents as well. He needs someone right now."

McGonagall nodded and left the room. So did the other members of the search party, some stopping to pat Ron on the back or whisper something to Harry and Hermione. Soon it was just Ron and Pomfrey in the room. She knew not to disturb the grieving redhead, knew that he needed to come to terms with the fact that his two best friends in the world were both gone. Forever.

Ron reached out, taking Hermione's hand in one of his own, and Harry's hand in the other. He gazed down at the faces of his two soulless friends, seemingly just sleeping. And that's when he spoke.

"Was it the same one? The dementor that took Harry's soul...was it the one that..."

"Probably."

Ron stood, letting go of their hands, rage and determination shining in his blue eyes. "Then I'm going to find it. I'm going to find it, and kill it. I don't care if it takes me the rest of my life, I _will_ get them back."

McGonagall walked in just then, followed by Hermione's distraught parents, Dumbledore, and Harry's aunt, who actually looked slightly concerned. The Grangers ran over to their daughter's corpse, taking in her peaceful expression and even, calm breathing. Mrs. Granger fell to her knees, bursting into tears, while Mr. Granger just looked numb.

Harry's aunt walked over to him, gently taking his hand. Their was actually a flicker of grief in her eyes, if you looked close enough. He was, after all, her last tie to her sister. He was related to her, even if she hadn't treated him the best over the years. He was still her nephew, her sister's son. It was just a pity that it took his soul getting sucked out for her to realize that.

Mrs. Granger stood, fury in her eyes. She whirled around to face the Headmaster. "YOU PROMISED! YOU PROMISED SHE WOULD BE SAFE!"

Professor Dumbledore looked down, and in that moment, he seemed every bit his one-hundred-fifty years. "I know. And I swear to all of you, I will put every effort, every resource I have, into getting their souls back where they belong."

McGonagall put in her two cents. "It wasn't Professor Dumbledore's fault, Mrs. Granger, Mr. Granger, Mrs. Dursley. If anything it was that idiotic Minister of ours. It was him that ordered the dementors onto the grounds, without even thinking of the outcome. He didn't even listen to Dumbledore when he protested against it."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Be that as it may, I should have been more vigilant. I should never have let the dementors even get close to either of these children."

Mr. Granger spoke for the first time. "It sounds to me that you put every bit of effort you could into the dementors being here in the first place, yes? It was the Minister who insisted they be placed here?"

"That is correct."

"You also have a newspaper exclusive to your world?"

"Yes."

"In that case, I would like to speak to a reporter from that newspaper. Preferably the one who can easily ruin a man."

"I will contact Rita Skeeter imm-"

Dumbledore paused as he saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye.

A small rat was scurrying out of the hospital wing. The boy was as good as dead. And now he had a Master to find. Now that the Dark Lord's biggest opponent was out of the way, it was time to help bring him back. He just had to...

"Immobulous!"

The rat froze in place, and an old, wrinkled hand picked him up.

"Hello Peter. Long time, no see."

* * *

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Hermione whispered, rocking back and forth as she stared at Harry in horror. He was flickering faintly, his soul almost completely extinguished by the python, only made weaker by Hermione's torture. She knew that it wouldn't be long now. She knew that her friend's soul would be completely destroyed, and then it'd be gone forever, like Harry had never existed.

The dementor had forced her to torture Harry once again, leaving him without a left leg and with Dark Marks burned and carved into his skin. It had then made her relive the memories, before murmuring that it wouldn't be long now and leaving the two alone. Harry's screams echoed around the room, growing fainter and fainter as the python leached off of his soul. She had the feeling that, once Harry was gone, the python would start to consume her too.

And the dementor would probably decided to torture her. Not that it hadn't already, but only mentally. Never physically. When Harry was gone, that would change. Not that she cared much. She deserve every inch of pain that she bestowed on Harry, and then some. She was a wretched, wretched person and she didn't deserve to exist anymore. She had reduced Harry, who had saved her life and offered her friendship, to a sobbing wreck, trembling and shaking, screaming in fear if she so much as moved. She wasn't even sure if he remembered her for who she was anymore, the friendly if slightly annoying bookworm, who cared about him and who was his friend.

Had she made him loose his mind entirely? And how long, exactly, had they been trapped here?

"Hello?"

The voice was faint, raspy. It wasn't one she had ever heard before. Had someone come to save them.

"Who's there?"

"Hello?" she called back, causing Harry to flinch at the sound of her voice, curling into a ball and screaming as the python squeezed around him yet again.

A young woman, maybe twenty-five or so, stepped from the wall into the small cell. She looked at the two of them in horror. Hermione knew that they must look terrible, her eyes red from crying, covered in Harry's blood, him completely transparent, tortured to the brink of insanity.

"My God, you're just kids!" the woman gasped, running forward to try and pull the python off of Harry. He shrieked and tried to scuttle backwards, but failed miserably.

"Leave me alone! Please!" he yelled, bringing up his arms to defend himself.

"What did this monster do to you children?" asked the woman, directing the question at Hermione. Hermione could see that she bore several scars of her own, and was down a few fingers and her left ear. Still, she wasn't nearly in the state Harry was.

"She took me over!" sobbed Hermione. "She made me do this!" A wild gesture at Harry. "I-I didn't mean to!"

The woman made a sympathetic noise. "I've seen this before," she murmured, almost to herself. "Shh...shh...it's not your fault," she said, wrapping Hermione in a hug.

Just as Hemione was about to deny it, claim that it was her fault, they heard a scream. A scream of agony. But it wasn't Harry. It wasn't the woman. It wasn't her.

It was the dementor.

* * *

**A/N: Le gasp! Sorry for all the cliffhangers on my stories lately...*sheepish grin* they're just so much fun to write! Toodles for now!**

_**-Winged Quill**_


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